


Off The Books

by RescueWombat



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Budding Love, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Romance, Team as Family, put that stray catboy back you don't know where he's been
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RescueWombat/pseuds/RescueWombat
Summary: A compilation of scenes from the life of Jarla Jacklaw, the Warrior of Light and overall really not the best person for the job, but who said she had to be perfect to be a hero?
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn, Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 6





	1. Regrets

The Waking Sands was quiet, even by the standards of the mostly vacant former headquarters. The only noise that emanated from its darkened halls were soft sniffles, like someone try desperately to restrain their tears.

“Why...why did you have to leave us?” Jarla whispered into her pillow, her eye wet with unshed tears and her voice fraught with emotions.

“Jarla? Art thee good now?” Urianger called through the door, his own voice heavy with the weight of mourning.

“I’m fine, Uri. I just...need some time.” Jarla said, trying to disguise the sadness and exhaustion in her voice.

“May I cometh in?” The Elezen asked as he peeked in through the door, his hood down and goggles removed for once.

“No, no, I’m fine, Uri, really.” The Hellsguard said as she buried her face further into her pillow.

“I only hath asked out of courtesy.” Urianger said as he pushed the door open and came into the sparsely decorated room.

Urianger had always marveled at Jarla’s love of weaponry. Her collection of katana mounted on the wall, each one after the first modelled after some Primal or another. Her axe, Rampager, sitting in the corner. The scent of steel and weapon polish filled the room, and it was almost comforting to see the room so unchanged, until he saw the newest addition. Laying upon Jarla’s workbench, next to all of the spare guards and the half-completed sheathe of a new katana, was Moenbryda’s axe.

“Thou art not good now, art thee?” Urianger said, having noticed the little things in the room that signalled just how unwell Jarla was. The unmade bed, the scattered clothes, and the untidy workbench. All things that showed how deep into depression the woman had sank.

“Ah’ria cameth to visiteth,” Urianger said softly as he pulled the stool away from the workbench and sank down onto it, “I did turn her hence.”

“I doubteth thee wisheth for her to seeth thee this way.”

“Thank you.” Jarla croaked out, her voice quiet and raw with emotion.

“I must be a sight. The mighty Jarla Jacklaw, beaten by her own damned heart.” She said, rolling onto her back to gaze into Urianger’s eyes.

“Do you hate me, Uri?” She asked, her voice shaky and her eye brimming with unshed tears.

“I couldst not. I couldst not hate thee any more than I could Moenbryda for leaving us.” He said as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“It should have been me,” Jarla whispered as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed and rest her forehead against Urianger’s, “it should have been me who died, and you and ‘bryda could have stayed together and gone on without me.”

For a moment Urianger sat in silence, his head resting against Jarla’s before he drew back as if leaning against the workbench and slammed his head into the Roegadyn’s.

“Ow!” Jarla cried as she fell back into her bed, a swollen lump forming on her forehead.

“The hell was that for?” She growled as she shot to her feet and snatched Urianger by the front of his robe and lifted him off the ground.

“Mine own apologies, but I couldst not standeth to seeth thee mope.” The Archon said, utterly calm despite the situation.

“Moenbryda wouldst wanteth us to moveth on.” He said, only stumbling a little when Jarla dropped him to the floor.

“So you did exactly what she would have to snap me out of it. Well done, Uri. We’ll make a normal person of you yet.” Jarla said as she shouldered past him and to the workbench.

“I guess I’ll have to postpone this project, but in the meantime...hey Urianger?”

“Aye?”

“Let’s go drinking. Like really drinking. Let’s make one of Thancred’s benders look tame.”

“As thee wisheth.”


	2. Local Flavor

“Where didst thee sayeth we were going?” Urianger said as his eyes flicked around the crowd, feeling utterly naked without his hood and goggles.

“I told you, the place doesn’t have a name. It’s just a stall in Hawker’s Alley that I like.” Jarla said as she guided the Elezen through the hustle and bustle of Limsa Lominsa’s primary market.

“Look, there it is!” She cried, gripping Urianger’s hand tighter and tugging him through the throng of shoppers and merchants.

The scent that struck Urianger was peculier. Like cooked fish, but also the subtle tang of spice and of hot oil.

“Jarla! Good of ye to stop by! What can I get ya?” The Sea Wolf manning the stall laughed, apparently familiar with the Hellsguard.

“Good to see you too uncle Waemwaen! I’ll take two lake trouts, two sandwiches, and are we too late for the breakfast special?” Jarla asked, her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Nope! Anything else?” Waemwaen said as he began boxing up the food in a picnic basket.

“Yeah, extra onion and extra horseradish on both those sandwiches. It’s his first time.” Jarla said with a nod to the positively dumbstruck Urianger.

“I bethink not I can consume all of yond.” Urianger said, a look on his face that said the scholar was quite out of his depth.

“Oh relax Uri, if you can’t finish it I’ll just eat it, but you  _ have _ to finish the breakfast special.” Jarla said as she gently pulled him closer and looked down at him with a smile.

“Of course. I shall tryeth, my lady.” Urianger said, a small smile on his lips as he gazed into her eyes.

“Alright, there you go!” Waemwaen said, breaking them out of their reverie.

“How much do I owe you?” Jarla asked as she began to reach for her coinpurse, only for the old Sea wolf to wave her off.

“Free of charge for the happy couple!”

“Oh. Well, thanks uncle!” Jarla said with a smile as she went to take the basket, only for Urianger to snatch it up in her stead.

“I bethought all of thee family wast dead?” He said once they were further down the market street, one eyebrow quirked curiously.

“Ah, my mom is, yeah, but the rest of them I’m not technically related to. I just grew up around them and they were practically family.” The Hellsguard said as she scanned the stalls for something.

“Aha!” She cried before she once again yanked Urianger through the crowd and toward a stall.

“Auntie Checheka! Give me two orders of dumplings, please!” She said as they got closer, the elderly Lalafell manning the stall only chuckling quietly as she began to fill two small boxes with steaming dumplings.

“Those smelleth heavenly.” Urianger said as Jarla exchanged a handful of gil for the boxes of dumplings.

“They ought to. They’re auntie’s octopus dumplings, after all!” Jarla said with a laugh.

“One more stop ought to be enough, and I know just the place.”

“I doth not knoweth I shouldst beest afraid or not.” Urianger said, only half joking in his words.

“Oh quit your whining, Uri. You’ll like this, I’m sure.” Jarla said as she dragged him down to the very end of Hawker’s Alley to a small stall manned by a young Hyur girl.

“Auntie Jarla!” The girl cried, absolutely overjoyed to see the Roegadyn.

“Elsie, little darling! Look at you!” She said, smiling widely as she kneeled down to give the girl a hug.

At the loss of contact between them, Urianger stopped a moment to examine himself. Here he was, in public unmasked and feeling as normal as ever, and odder still he felt strangely empty without Jarla’s hand in his, his palm cold and lonely.

“You’ve grown so big, pretty soon I’ll have to teach you how to fight, won’t I?” Jarla said, pulling back from the hug to look at the girl with a kind of pride Urianger had never seen on her face.

“Uncle Jacke is doing that already! I even have my own knife!” Elsie said, pulling a short and mostly blunt dagger from behind her back.

“Oh, that’s lovely! But we’re here for something special, Elsie. Do you think we could buy some biscuits?” Jarla asked, whispering conspiratorially.

“Of course! Mum’s off talking to Uncle Wawalago about something, so I’ll sell you biscuits!” The girl said, scurrying back behind the stall and onto the small chair that allowed her to see over the counter.

“Five biscuits for ten gil!”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain! I’ll take ten, and I won’t pay you any less than forty for them.” Jarla said, already counting out the coin as Elsie bagged the small treats.

“Deal!” The girl said as she took the coin and handed Jarla the bag of biscuits.

“Now we’ve got everything we need.” Jarla said as she took Urianger’s hand once more, the empty feeling gone the moment she made contact.

“Breaded and fried trout, popoto fries, aldgoat steak sandwiches with onion and horseradish, breakfast specials, octopus dumplings, and maple sugar biscuits.” Jarla rattled off as she led Urianger out of Hawker’s Alley and onto the upper decks.

“What, pray tell, exactly is the ‘breakfast special’?” Urianger asked as they sat down on the edge of the landing, feet dangling over the edge as they looked down over the Aetheryte plaza.

“It’s a lager with an egg in it.” Jarla said as she reached into the basket and extracted a clear glass bottle with an amber liquid inside of it, the telltale yellow of an egg yolk visible in the lager.

“It’s popular with Yellowjackets who pull nighttime patrols.” She said as she pried the cork out with her teeth spat it down to the ground below before draining the bottle dry in three smooth pulls.

“Ah, reminds me of busting smugglers and bitching about pay.”

“I forgot thee were once a Yellowjacket.” Urianger said as he opened his own bottle and looked at it dubiously.

“I wish I could. Now come on, drink, it’ll make you hungrier, and you don’t want to miss out on any of this.” The Hellsguard said as she tore a piece of fish off from her portion and popped it in her mouth.

“Of course, my lady.” Urianger said, and he began to drink.

It wasn’t the typical Sharlayan cuisine he preferred, but Urianger could certainly get used to this kind of local flavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory: Jarla was adopted by an elderly Hyur woman when she was found abandoned on the docks. She practically grew up at her adoptive mother's stall in Hawker's Alley and thus knows most of the vendors there. She was originally a Marauder, and was a Yellowjacket for a little while after the Calamity but she left that fairly quickly to become an adventurer with her childhood best friend Daegbyrt, who'll show up later on.


	3. Stray

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jarla muttered around her cigar as she dealt another round of cards to the table, “who’s the guy that’s been following us?”

“Did some digging on that already boss. He’s T’hir Tia, one of the locals. Worked at that Manufactory place for a while before going freelance as an adventurer.” Daegbyrt said as he checked his hand.

“We ran into him a couple moons ago, after that debacle with Edda? He was in the Roost when we were drinking and started flirting with Kaz pretty hard. I guess he recognized us when we hit town, decided to see if he could seal with deal or something.” The Sea Wolf said, giving a subtle nod to the Hrothgar sitting at the bar of the Forgotten Knight.

“Hm. Which corner is he sitting in and what does he look like?” Jarla asked as she plucked her cigar from her lips and tapped off the ash in her flagon.

“Blond, scar on his lower lip,” Tabiq started as she waved down a server for another cup of milk.

“Over in the corner to the right of the front door.” Sabiq finished as she checked her cards.

“Two points for the twins. I’ll even forgive you for cheating.” Jarla said to herself as she turned in her seat and looked the Miqo’te in the corner dead in the eye.

“Kazek’s denser than a chunk of scheelite. If you wanna talk to him, you’re gonna have to get up and talk to him.” She said, just loud enough for man to hear.

A look of fear crossed his face, his eyes going wide and panicky before he registered what had been said and got up and walked over to Kazek, the Hrothgar greeting him amiably, and the night carried on normal from there.

The next morning, however, did not.

“Kazek, you’ve known him, Kazek you’ve known him for less than a damned day!” Jarla yelled, much to the chagrin of her comrades whose hangovers hadn’t disappeared after eating breakfast.

“He’s good at what he does, Jarla! He’s really,  _ really _ good…” The Hrothgar trailed off, a slightly dopey grin on his feline face.

“Kazek, as head of this free company I  _ refuse _ .”

“Well I refuse your refusal!” Kazek snapped as he picked up T’hir and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of popotoes.

“Kazek Ovasch you put that stray Miqo’te back! You don’t know where he’s been!” Jarla yelled after the Hrothgar’s retreating back, the blond Miqo’te over his shoulder looking back smugly.

“I know precisely where he’s been, and I quite like it!” Kazek called as he looked over his other shoulder, looking just as smug as T’hir.

“Well, aren’t they just a match made in hell.” Thorrs said as he cracked an egg into his beer, voice as dull and dead sounding as usual.

“I’m gonna give him to the twins.” Jarla said, absolutely exasperated, frustrated, and more than a little angry.

“Does that count as cruel and unusual punishment?” Annette asked, voice muffled from her position facedown on the table.

“It ought to.” Daegbyrt with a groan, his sound of anguish only growing in volume as Tabiq and Sabiq giggled mischievously.

“He just had to go and pick up a stray…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context on Jarla's friends/party members, in order that she met them.  
> \- Daegbyrt Koelmoer, Sea Wolf Roegadyn Ninja, Jarla's childhood friend, primary info guy  
> \- Kazek Ovasch, Lost Hrothgar Monk/Paladin/Dark Knight, Ul'dah native, hates the Syndicate  
> \- Thorrs Waldst, Midlander Hyur White Mage, Gridania native, dead on the inside  
> \- Annette Seveuir, Wildwood Elezen Astrologian, Ishgard native, disaster lesbian disguised as a dignified lesbian  
> \- Tabiq and Sabiq Himaa, Xaela Au Ra, Dragoon and Monk respectively, horrible gremlins  
> \- T'hir Tia, Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te, Machinist/Gunbreaker(?), Ishgard native, supreme knife cat energy  
> Together they are the Inevitables and they're all idiots.


	4. Memorial

“Hey, pops. I know I haven’t visited in a while, but I just wanted to come by give you an update. Life’s going pretty well right now, for all it can.” Jarla said as she settled down in front of the unassuming grave.

“I’ve nearly got it figured out, y’know? Took me so damn long...but I’m finally getting it. I’m sure you’d be proud, wouldn’t you pops?” She said as she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

“I miss you, y’know. I wish I hadn’t had to do it, but you would have hated me for it…”

“Jarla? Is that you?” A familiar voice called, and Jarla turned to look at the speaker.

“Momo...yeah, it’s me. You came to pay him a visit too?” The Hellsguard said, smiling as the Lalafell came to stand beside her.

“Of course. He gave me a purpose, Jarla. He showed me life was more than money and showmanship. I think in that way I was as much his student as you were.” Momozigo said as he sat down next to Jarla, a wistful smile on his face.

“Yeah…I wanna do him proud, y’know? I’m trying to do what he would in the situations I get into. I’m not a great person, Momo, but...I think I can be the disciple he wanted.” Jarla said, her eye growing wet as she looked at the grave marker.

“I think he’d be right proud of you Jarla. I think he’d be overjoyed to see you using his teachings for good like you are.” Momozigo said as he stood, the setting sun casting his face in soft warm colors.

“Right...I should get back to Ishgard.” Jarla said softly as she took to her own feet, staring out over the water and into the setting sun.

“After all. Such evil cannot be suffered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the 50-60 Samurai quests...I'm sad now...RIP Musosai, gone but not forgotten.


	5. Lost Control

As Ravana fell, Jarla barked out a laugh.

“So you’ve gone and done my job for me, eh?” She said as she stamped out her cigar on the heel of her boot.

“I don’t know if we should thank them or ask who the hell they are.” Kazek chuckled as he slowly drew his greatsword from his back.

“Third option,” Daegbyrt said as he drew his knives, spinning them as he took a stance, “kick their asses and find out from the coroners.”

“Always did like how you thought Daeg.” Jarla said as she drew her katana, the flames on the blade in full bloom as she lunged forward.

With a clang, her sword collided with the shield of another Roegadyn.

“Bad move.” He said with a grin as he slammed into her shield first, only to be forced out of the way as the resounding boom of T’hir’s gunblade rang out, the Miqo’te grinning as he yanked his weapon free of the ground for another swing.

“Thorrs, get their healer!” Kazek bellowed as he charged into the fray, meeting the axe-wielding Hyur head on as Jarla reoriented herself.

“On it.” The White Mage said, launching a Rescue directly at the Lalafell, only to miss as she leaped out of the way.

With a whoop of glee, Tabiq launched her sister off of her lance, Sabiq screaming with joy as she flew towards the Miqo’te Bard that had been peppering them with arrows. She landed with a roll as her sister came crashing down, ground cracking under the impact and sending the sharpshooter stumbling.

Amongst the sounds of explosions from the enemy Black Mage, the ring of steel on steel and the crunch of the earth shattering under the weight of dodged blows, there came a singular sound louder than all of them put together.

A sickening  _ crunch _ as the axe-wielding Hyur slammed his fist into Jarla’s nose, blood already beginning to drip from her nostrils.

With a roar the Hellsguard dropped her blade, the flames disappearing as she drove her fist into the man’s stomach. As he doubled over, she took ahold of his short brown hair and drove her knee into his face, another violent snapping noise echoing over the now silent battlefield as bloody red aether poured off of Jarla’s body.

“She’s gonna go berserk! Thorrs, get her out of there!” Annette cried, desperately trying to heal her as she strained her body.

“If she loses to her inner beast it’ll be Ul’dah all over again.” The Midlander said, emotion in his voice as he tried to aim a Rescue through the stock-still mass of warriors watching the Roegadyn beat down the man.

As Jarla let out another unnatural roar, one hand fisted in the man’s hair as the other repeatedly slammed into his face, her knuckles slick with blood both hers and her enemies, the Hyur was dragged away, the Lalafellin White Mage gently cradling his body as Jarla’s fist came crashing down one last time, reducing the hard packed earth beneath her to dust.

“Daegbyrt, Kazek, now!” Annette yelled as Jarla made to lunge, her one good eye a burning red as the Hrothgar and Roegadyn wrapped their arms around hers and held her back.

“Sleep!” Thorrs cried, the spell washing over their leader and putting her to gentle rest.

He took a moment to sigh with relief, sagging on his feet as he looked up to heavens in thanks, but when he looked down the other party was gone, the only sign they had ever been there a spattering of blood slowly soaking into the dirt.

“I guess it’s a good thing you sat in on Cocobuki’s lectures, hm?” Annette giggled from beside him as she playfully elbowed him in the side, her continued teasing interrupted by a yell of confusion.

“What the  _ hell _ was that!?” T’hir yelled, confused and slightly terrified by what had just happened.

“She nearly beat him to death! What the fuck was that?” He cried, eyes wide and mouth gaping as he looked from person to person for an explanation.

“Jarla used to be a Warrior,” Kazek started as he helped to load her onto Daegbyrt’s back, “but when we were ran out of Ul’dah by Ilberd and the Crystal Braves, she lost control of her inner beast, the Warrior’s source of power. She tore three of Ilberd’s fingers off with her bare hands, and damn near would have killed Thorrs if it hadn’t been for Master Musosai showing up.”

Anxiously, Thorrs rubbed at the four long scars that graced his face, mostly healed but forever visible on his pale skin.

“He helped us knock her out, and from there one of Jarla’s old friends saved us with the help of Raubahns’s son Pipin, and then Cid got us to Ishgard and away from the Crystal Braves. The rest, as they say, is history.” Daegbyrt said as he settled Jarla on his back and began to walk away from the site of the battle.

“My my, if I had known what had occurred after our parting, I would have left sooner.” Thancred said from atop one of the many spires of the Gnath stronghold.

“Waters.” Kazek said, eyes hard as he glared at the Scion.

“Ovasch.” The minstrel returned, far too cheerful for a man that had nearly seen one of his close friends nearly beat someone to death.

“I’ll punch you later you dramatic piece of shite, but for now we ought to get back to Tailfeather, or at the very least Loth ast Vath.” The Dark Knight hissed before taking the lead of the party and hurrying them out.

“It seems we have missed much.” Y’shtola said, Thancred only able to nod in agreement as he landed beside her.

“That we have…” He said, honestly bewildered by the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah....this one explains why Jarla's a Samurai instead of a Warrior, and also shows that Warrior of Darkness dude getting his shit wrecked, because while he's apparently plot relevant, he's also a smug little bastard.


	6. Discontent

"Sometimes I look back and I realize that after the Yellowjackets, before the whole Warrior of Light thing, you were kind of evil." Daegbyrt said from his spot leaned against a dead and scorched tree.

"I never stopped being the bad guy," Jarla said as she lit her cigar and took a long drag, "now I just do it for the good guys."

"Money, fame, the fear of the masses, I can earn it all working for the good guys and come out of it with a sparkly reputation too. Who cares that I've taken more lives than I can bother counting? Who cares that I once beat a man to death with the sheathe of my katana? None of that matters when you're the Warrior of Light, because then you're a good person no matter what, and whoever it was that got in my way deserved it." She said as she pulled her sword from its sheathe and admired the edge, flames just beginning to dance along it.

"I fucking hate this job." She said as she pulled her cigar from between her teeth and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

“I know you do, but if you hadn’t stepped up then Baelsar would have run rampant on us. We’d be dead or worse.” Daegbyrt said as he pushed off of the tree and walked over to where Jarla was sitting to offer her a hand down.

“I know. Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” She said, taking her childhood friend’s hand and jumping down from the pile of ruined magitek and scorched bodies.

“Let’s go meet up with the others. They probably need the backup.” The Sea Wolf said as Jarla sheathed her katana and took another long drag from her cigar.

“Yeah, probably.” Jarla sighed, smoke rolling out with the words.

“And after this mess is over, we can all just go back to our normal lives. Guarding caravans, killing people worse than us, and getting drunk on our days off. Let’s keep going until we can get to that at least.” Daegbyrt said, letting go of Jarla’s hand to give her a solid slap on the back.

“Yeah. That sounds good to me.” Jarla said, grinning around her cigar as she took a step forward.

“Let’s keep going.”


	7. Friendship's Beginning

“You, Zenos Yae Galvus! I like you!” Jarla crowed as she sheathed her sword to draw a cigar and her lighter from within her coat.

“Care for a smoke?” She said, gesturing with one end of her cigar.

“I will...refuse, thank you.” Zenos said, the crown prince quite befuddled by the turn the situation had taken.

“Why do you treat me so? Upon our first clash, you were left barely clinging to life, and at my hand no less. I could have taken your life then and there. You should by all rights despise me, and yet you do not. Why?” He asked, head tilted in a curiosity he had never before felt.

“You said you wanted a friend, didn’t you? Here I am mate, your new friend Jarla. None of that ‘beast’ business now. Unless of course it’s a pet name, in which case it’s a sight better than what some have called me.” Jarla said as she lit her cigar and took a seat on the ground, wiping at the blood clotting around the gash in her head.

“Bitch, whore of light, one-eyed monster, pirate scum, heretical wench, and those just came from my friends!” She laughed, smoke pouring out of her mouth with the sound.

“You would grant a monster like myself your friendship? You would treat me as you do any of your comrades in arms?” Zenos asked, unsettled by the familiarity his prey was treating him with.

“Well why wouldn’t I? You asked for it, didn’t you? Far be it from me to deny a lonely man some companionship, now come over here and tell me about those swords of yours. I’ve a few I wish to show off myself.” Jarla said as she took another drag of her cigar and motioned to the myriad katana strapped across her back.

“I will admit, I found myself distracted by them. Why do you carry so many?” Zenos asked as he crossed the small courtyard and sat down across from the Warrior of Light.

“Mementos of defeated foes,” Jarla said as she yanked the bundle of blades off her back and sat them on the ground between herself and the Garlean prince, “every Primal I’ve defeated since taking up the katana, I’ve made one in memory of. There’s an old Hellsguard tradition of making a weapon from a dead foe, and crafting a weapon in honor of a fallen comrade.”

“This one was made from Ifrit’s horn, and this one from Good King Moogle Mog’s whisker.” She said as she drew the blade from her hip and pulled one from the pile.

“What of this one?” Zenos asked as he pulled a blade from the pile and drew it, admiring the aether flowing from the blade.

“Ah, a personal favorite! That one I based upon Ravana, the Primal of the Gnath. Should he ever be summoned again, I’ll bring you along. I think you’d quite enjoy his methods.” Jarla said with a booming chuckle.

“Y’know Zenos, you talk a lot about being a monster, but I think you’re something else.” Jarla said after what felt like hours of simply talking to the man that had been hunting her like prey.

“And what do you think I am, my friend?” The crown prince asked as he compared one of Jarla’s blades to one of his own.

“Misunderstood. Lonely. Yearning for someone who’s willing to treat you like a normal person instead of cowering in fear and bowing to your every whim. You’re just a man in the end. One that needs friends.” The Hellsguard said, smiling at him sadly.

“You can leave this all behind, Zenos. I know you only feel anything in the heat of battle but I can help you feel  _ more _ . If you’d just give me the chance and come with me, leave Garlemald behind, I know you’ve got no love for it. The only person you fight for is yourself, but over these months, every time we’ve fought, I’ve felt something more. They say that masters of the blade can speak more eloquently through combat than any poet can with ink and parchment.” She said as she stood, drawing her blade and letting the flames dancing upon it grow.

“Will you speak to me through your blade, Zenos yae Galvus?”

“My beast, my friend, I would like nothing more.” The Garlean said as he stood and drew his own blade.

The clash was instantaneous, the ring of steel on steel echoing alongside booming guffaws and raspy chuckles, taunts flying into elegant sarcastic ripostes as the duel drew on and on, the sun dipping below the sky as the Warrior of Light and the Crown Prince of Garlemald matched each other blow for blow.

Eventually though, their duel came to a close, Jarla’s blade hovering just ahead of his throat as she pulled tightly at his hair.

“Do it, beast. End me!” He hissed, a crazed look in his eye and blood leaking from his mouth.

“Hmmmm, no.” Jarla said, pulling her sword from the prince’s neck and pulling him forward by his long blond hair into a searing kiss.

When she finally broke away, Zenos was panting heavily, his lips bruised and cheeks flushed.   
  


“I-wha-why?” Zenos stammered, once more confused by the powerful, dangerous,  _ wonderful _ woman who had such a tight grip on both his hair and now quite possibly his heart.

“You’re good looking, and I just ended a relationship a few months back, so I’m still rebounding, y’know? And I like a guy who puts up a fight.” She said, letting go of the prince’s hair and letting him collapse to the ground.

“Now come on, lover boy. You want to feel something, don’t you? I can think of a few ways to do that.” The Roegadyn said as she slung the rest of her katanas over her shoulder and shot Zenos a saucy smile, her dark purple lipstick ever so slightly smudged from her attack on his lips.

“Yes, my beast.” Zenos said as he climbed to his feet, slowly starting after the Warrior of Light.

  
Yes, this was the start of a  _ beautiful _ friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so, this is something a bit different for me. I've been playing FFXIV pretty on and off for a little under a year or so now? And I just now finished A Realm Reborn, and certain...things...made me sad and I had to write my feelings, which is a bit like how you can eat your feelings but with less cookie dough ice cream and more sobbing like a wimp as I think about wholesome WoL/Urianger/Moenbryda polyamory because I got hella attached to Moenbryda and cried when she died. Anyway this is a thing now and I have feelings for Urianger.


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